Novels by Beth Emma

Dante’s POVDante had been pacing his room for almost twenty minutes, the same line on the floor now starting to look like a runway. His head was loud. Too loud. The pictures from the envelope kept replaying in his mind like a bad movie he could not stop.He hated being blindsided. It was the one thing he never tolerated.He stopped pacing and dragged a hand through his hair. “Who the hell took those photos?”Two names came to mind instantly.The first was Vincenzo Carbone. A rat with a face that always looked like it needed a punch. They had grown up in the same circles, attended the same expensive schools where boys were trained to become dangerous men. Vincenzo had always wanted what Dante had. Power. Control. Respect. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never get close to it. So he settled for petty games and cheap shots. The type of man who would send photos instead of bullets because he liked the slow burn.The second was Elena DeMarco. A woman Dante once trusted, back whe

Iris’ POVIris woke up with a headache. But not the normal kind. This one came with regret, embarrassment, and the ghost of Dante’s hands on her thighs from last night.She slapped her palm over her face and groaned into the pillow.“Dear God, please delete last night from his memory.”She knew that prayer wasn’t going to work. God had better things to do than fix her self-control issues.She swung her legs off the bed and nearly tripped on the stupid marble floor. She hated this penthouse. Too big. Too cold. Too full of that man’s presence.She brushed her teeth with enough aggression to break the toothbrush, got dressed for work, and tiptoed out like a burglar. The last thing she wanted was to see Dante at 8 a.m., smirking like the devil he was.She made it all the way to the kitchen and almost smiled in victory… until she heard his voice.“Morning, Ey-ris.”Fuck.He was sitting at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, that stupid sexy jaw on full display. And he was eat

Iris Pov“Ms. Rossi, a word?” A reporter’s voice cut through the hum of the event, camera flashes stabbing at her eyes. They’d just ended yet another social event.Iris shifted her weight, adjusting the silk of her deep green gown and pinching the strap that threatened to slip. She forced a polite smile, “Not right now, thank you.”Dante stood nearby, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, black tie perfectly knotted, and a faint wrinkle of a frown forming between his brows as he greeted another guest.Something about tonight felt off. Maybe it was the press, or maybe it was because Dante had been distracted ever since they got to the party. She shook off the feeling, muttering under her breath, “Get a grip, Iris. You’re not a teenager.” She didn’t want to admit to herself that she wanted him around her.“Mr. Moretti,” a reporter called, leaning forward over the velvet rope, “do you have any comment about the circumstances surrounding your father’s passing? There are whispers that—”

Iris PovIris didn’t know how long she could avoid her husband. For two weeks since they've been married and since the incident in his car, she made it a point of duty to stay away from him.He affected her in ways she could not control. That day, Iris was home from work earlier than she usually was.The front door clicked open before Iris could even think to call out. Someone groaned from somewhere in the penthouse. Iris’ heart skipped a beat. She threw her hair over her shoulder and held her bag out as she went into the house.“Dante?” she whispered.A figure staggered into the dim light of the living room, shoulder dragging slightly and lips cut, Blood matted his hair, and the normally perfect suit was torn and smeared with dirt.“I’m fine,” he said, though the rasp in his voice betrayed him.Iris’s stomach knotted; fear and concern warred inside her. She stepped forward slowly, while her hands trembled. “You’re… hurt.”“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, but his voice lacked its usual

Iris PovIris tugged at the hem of her deep emerald gown, feeling the silk cling to her curves in a way that was both flattering and terrifying. Her auburn hair fell down her shoulders, and her green eyes were sharp under carefully applied eyeliner, lips painted a daring shade of red, which contrasted well with her fair skin.The gown’s plunging neckline and slit up to her thigh screamed attention, which was exactly the opposite of how she wanted to feel tonight. But it was two weeks after getting married to Dante, and he was determined to drag her to every social event.She pressed her lips together, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and she groaned. “Why did I let him talk me into this?”Dante’s deep chuckle came from behind her. He leaned against the doorway, black tux perfectly tailored, white shirt crisp beneath the jacket, tie loosened just enough to look effortlessly dangerous. “You look… remarkable,” he said, “And nervous. I like that mix. Makes you unpredictable.”

Iris PovThe time was 7 pm on a Friday. Iris was glad she didn’t have to go to work tomorrow. If only she knew her life was about to change that weekend.Iris dropped her bag on the couch and kicked off her heels, sighing at the silence of her loft. She was halfway to pouring a glass of wine when someone knocked. She went to answer the door and saw an envelope lying on the floor. There was no return address.Her fingers trembled as she tore it open.SUBPOENA. Federal court. They were investigating her father’s “involvement” with the Moretti family. If he didn’t appear, he could be arrested. And if the press got wind of it, her career would burn too. Her phone buzzed before she could think, but it was not a saved number.“Ey-ris.” Dante’s voice filled the speakers.She swallowed hard. “This isn’t funny. I just got a subpoena.”“I know,” he said calmly. “A leak. A little push to remind you what’s at stake.”Her knees weakened, and she sank onto the couch. “You did this?”“I can make it